


Go Together

by lusteralliance (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (kinda), Childhood, Childhood Friends, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Sickfic, Sylvix Week (Fire Emblem), Sylvixweek2019, Warnings May Change, anyway i hope to participate in this week, deleting my works this way and that, edit: cool so i gave up, im really sorry about everything ive been out of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 15:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21038207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lusteralliance
Summary: a collection of my sylvix week works![ratings/warnings, prompts, etc. will be mentioned in the summaries of the chapters they occur in]





	Go Together

**Author's Note:**

> we in this

“If anyone can convince him to eat, it’s you,” Felix’s mother had said. Sylvain sucked in a big breath, balancing the bowl of warm broth against his chest as he shuffled down the hallway towards his little friend’s bedroom. Letting Felix down was one thing, but letting Felix’s mother down was a whole other. 

He reached Felix’s bedroom, where he heard faint coughing coming from behind the closed door. Sylvain let go of the bowl for an instant and nearly dropped it, so he hugged it back to his chest with a yelp and looked around, spotting a maid folding some laundry in another room across the hall.

“Um! Excuse me, Miss!” Sylvain called, and the maid looked up and got daintily to her feet, a small shirt that must’ve belonged to Felix half-folded over her arm. Sylvain recognized her slightly. She was pretty, with almond-shaped, almond-colored eyes and silky-looking, short hair cropped to her shoulders like cuttings of heather. She seemed to recognize Sylvain too, for she smiled and addressed him by name.

“Yes, Sylvain?”

“Can you open this door please?”

The maid bent down a little and pouted, the way adults usually did when giving potentially upsetting news to a young child. “I’m sorry, but Felix is still resting. Have you come to play with him?”

“I came to see if he’s okay and I won’t leave until he is!” Sylvain declared, and the maid simpered and patted the boy’s cheek. 

“That’s very kind of you, but he doesn’t want anyone to bother him. I tried visiting him this morning and he wouldn’t eat. Perhaps he wants to be left alone.”

“No! He just doesn’t like you as much as he likes me!” The maid smiled at the boy’s determined indignance, knowing what he said was simply the truth—an employed helper was much different from a little friend who understood his childish babblings, after all. She straightened with a swish of her grayish dress and turned the handle of Felix’s bedroom door.

“All right. Don’t get him too excited,” the maid warned, and Sylvain nodded eagerly, thanking her as she opened the door a crack. She peeked into the dark room over Sylvain’s head, clearing her throat. “Hello? Felix?”

A familiar voice, hoarse yet thick with illness, answered faintly. “Go ‘way.”

Sylvain glanced up at the maid, who tipped her head briefly in curious encouragement, and he whispered, “Felix! It’s me!” 

There was the immediate shifting of bedding, and then a small “Sylvain?” that meant Sylvain was welcome. He thanked the maid, who bore a surprised and pleased expression, and hurried inside.

The room was almost entirely dark, save for the sheet of subdued, blue light softly illuminating the bedroom through the gap between the curtains. Sylvain squinted in the darkness and spotted Felix, standing on his knees in a pile of thick blankets. He was hugging a pillow to his chest, with a thinner blanket draped over his head and wrapped messily around his body like a caterpillar who had given up on his cocoon.

His rheumy amber eyes were wide, the region under his pink nose rubbed raw by tissues. He looked deathly pale, and Sylvain could see that poor little Felix was trembling head to toe. 

“Felix!” Sylvain gasped, and he placed his still-warm bowl of soup on the bedside table and took off his shoes, which Felix’s father had let him keep on when he’d come running an hour ago all the way from the Gautier manor without supervision to see Felix. When they were neatly placed against the wall by the door, Sylvain clambered onto the bed and wrapped his arms around his little friend. Felix whimpered and let go of his pillow, taking small handfuls of Sylvain’s shirt as he held onto him for dear life.

“Sylvain...I missed you,” he mewled, when Sylvain had let go of him, and he dug his fists into his eyes and sniffled. Sylvain took his wrists and wormed his fingers between Felix’s, holding his hands tightly to prevent him from aggravating his eyes anymore. 

“It’s okay, I’m here now,” Sylvain reassured him quietly. Felix nodded feebly, blinking his teary eyes slowly, and Sylvain hugged the younger boy against him as he pulled one of the blankets up and over Felix’s shoulders. “Here, keep warm, or it’ll take forever for you to get better!”

Felix tugged the blankets obediently around himself, leaning against his pillow, and Sylvain shuffled onto the side of the bed and took the bowl of broth in his hands.

“I brought soup,” he told Felix, and Felix shrank away, shaking his head.

“No,” he rasped. “Not hungry.”

“You gotta eat something!” Sylvain insisted, which only seemed to make Felix more upset. His eyes widened as he stared at the far wall of his dark bedroom.

“I’m just tired,” he mumbled, hiccuping. Sylvain bit his lip, unsure of what to do. Felix didn’t want to eat, and Felix’s mother desperately wanted him to eat. This was a matter in which existed no compromise.

Sylvain placed the bowl back on the bedside table and lay down with Felix in the soft, cold bed. Felix shifted a little closer, and Sylvain folded his hands under the pillow his head rested on, waiting for Felix to look at him.

When he did, his gaze was so frail, so frightened; his dry lip trembled and tears streaked down his pale face, only half of the energetic, happy-go-lucky little boy he’d been just three days ago. His hand wriggled out of his blanket and clung tightly onto Sylvain’s. It was small and cold, as if he was….

“I’m scared,” Felix snuffled. “I don’t wanna die….”

Sylvain narrowed his hazel eyes, half in terror, half in anger. “No. You aren’t gonna die! I’ll make sure of it. I’ll come every day, and I’ll be right here next to you until you get better. And even when you’re okay again, I’ll still stay. Okay?”

Felix whimpered with the sobs he refused to let slip in his mother’s presence, in his brother’s arms; he nodded, and Sylvain sucked in a bigger breath than he had before he’d entered this little room and pecked Felix’s tear-soaked cheek.

“I’ll be here every step of the way. You’ll never be alone!”

Felix’s wide eyes fluttered a little, and he let go of Sylvain’s hand, curling all his fingers against his palm except for his pinky.

“Promise?”

Sylvain nodded, interlocking his own pinky with Felix’s.

“Promise.”

Felix buried his face into Sylvain’s little chest and started to cry, his breaths short and painful, and Sylvain pulled him close and squeezed him tightly against him. 

“Thank you, Sylvie,” the younger boy mewled at last, squeezing his eyes shut to let Sylvain thumb his tears away.

“Let’s sleep,” he whispered. “Maybe tomorrow we can play, if you’re feeling better!”

Felix looked up, sniffling and nodding on his pillow, and he smiled for the first time in many, many days. 

That evening, Felix’s mother entered her youngest son’s room to send Sylvain home with a servant. She hoped that Felix had eaten, and that they were playing nicely with each other, if at all. Instead, she found a bowl of untouched broth, cloudy clumps of congealed oil clinging to the surface, and her little boy, his cheeks flushed with warmth as he lay snuggled up in his blankets with Sylvain, his face resting against Felix’s as they slept.


End file.
